Might as well
by SmarmyAnna
Summary: Bruce is burned out and Tony is bored. Or is he lonely? Or is he something else entirely? Bruce doesn't know what is coming over himself, but he can't stop now. Two geniuses small amount of alcohol fashion challenge generous amount of awkward scientist.
1. Chapter 1

First story. No, I'm not adding anything. No, they don't belong to me.

It was more than difficult for Bruce to avoid the playboy. He felt like the game in a fox hunt- relentlessly pursued until he was overcome by exhaustion. _'That man needs more hobbies...' _he starts to think to himself, but mentally edits that to 'friends' instead. Not that he wasn't relieved to have someone to work with and talk to, though truth be told, Bruce didn't do much talking. It was more like listening to a wall of Stark-babble with brief gaps to interject. Though, eventually, they would both get so focused on a project (independently or working together) that chatter would cease, leaving only the minimal, essential, question and answer.

Lately, however, he felt like he needed a break from the constant invasion of personal space and thoughts. Stark was awfully intense to take in such concentrated doses.

It was overwhelming...he really felt as though Stark was going out of his way to find him and strike up a conversation about this theory, or that gadget, or get his opinion on something or other. Add to that the penetrating stare which never seemed to stop. What an odd fellow. Bruce had to come up for air from this interesting friendship.

So he took an absence from the labs at Stark Tower to relax in his temporary apartment. While he would rather be working, it was nice to take a little break. In the small but peaceful space he'd been given, Bruce figuratively let his hair down. Door, shut. Blinds, drawn. Shoes, off. He walked over to the bed and stacked the pillows together at the headboard...but before he could sit down, a rhythmic knocking came from the door.

His arms hung at his sides as he looked at it. He already knew what to expect, but held out for a surprise anyway. Bruce closed his eyes. "Yes? Come in." he called, dropping his shoulders.

"Hey big guy." _Big surprise_. Stark. The door opened and he lingered in the doorway. His voice was low and quiet...Bruce opened his eyes and turned to face Tony, his head slightly cocked. "Yes, Tony? What can I do for you?" he asked slowly, careful not to sound annoyed (even though the bed promised to be so comfortable...).

Tony just stood quietly, which was uncharacteristic. His eyes flashed up to Bruce, but darted away just as quickly. When he spoke again he was focused on the doorframe- running his hand over it. "So I was thinking, if you're all done sciencing for today we could undo that brain building with some beer and cheesy action movies. I've got the first three Die Hards. How do you feel about buddy cop movies? Pepper thinks they're too unbelievable but I keep telling her that's not why people watch them. It's all about that feel-good one liner and the over the top action that..." he slowed down long enough to register the blank look on Bruce's face before he got the babble-train rolling again. "Never mind. Stupid idea. But I think the beer is a good idea, _always_ a good idea." He looked up at Bruce again, appearing to gain some confidence back. _Why had he come in looking so shy?_ "That's what guys do when they hang out, right? I think I read that somewhere." He looked like he was ready to start talking again, but Bruce held up his hand to stop him. "Yes, I think that's what they do." Tony looked so painfully awkward standing in the doorway, looking and not-looking at Bruce.

The soft-spoken scientist worked it over in his head before saying, "Would you like to hang out, Tony?" There was a small shift in the other man's posture, he looked more aloof now that it was Bruce asking for him instead of the other way around. "Sure, I mean I guess that sounds good. I always keep some Mickey's around, come on." he said as he stood straight to leave. Bruce followed, asking, "Mickey's?" The look he got in response spoke of his ignorance in all things cultured. "It's beer, smarty pants." He paused to glare threateningly. "And don't you dare ask if I have any cold ones. Chilling it should be a crime."


	2. Chapter 2

_Tony definitely needs more friends._ But Bruce realized, as they cracked a few beers and laughed quietly with each other, though he was becoming more willing to oblige the eccentric billionaire. Honestly, his company wasn't that bad (just occasionally overwhelming...). In the enormous, empty living quarters at the top of Stark Tower, Bruce Willis was spoiling the holidays for Alan Rickman, but without an attentive audience. Bruce and Tony were...hanging out. Like guys do. Joking, talking, turning off the analytics toward science and instead analyzing one another. Tony was sitting with one leg up on the couch, his body facing Bruce and his elbow up on the backrest. Bruce himself had one leg crossed over the other, forgotten beer held between both hands in his lap.

"So what about you pal, Natasha, right? Am I right? Normally I wouldn't peg you for the dark type, but I bet you've got all kinds of kinky secrets. You can tell me, I promise not to breathe a word of it. No _more_ than one word. Two words." The more he heard the Stark-babble, the more comfortable it became- like a blanket of words and tone, intended to annoy many (and soothe a select few). Bruce shyly smiled, face down, hair falling over his glasses. "You'd never believe me if I told you my type. I find it safer not to think about it at all." Tony's grin didn't disappear entirely, but it was dialed back. He was sorry for him, Bruce thought. That half smile was all pity. His own expression dropped to a mask of neutrality. Who was he kidding- he felt bad for himself. How pathetic. But the one good thing about Stark's inability to maintain a silence, was that nobody around him could be lost in their thoughts for long. "Don't be like that, Old Spice. I just told you I wouldn't telllllllll...tooo many people, anyway. Just anyone you know personally who might judge you. It's one of my few weaknesses." He made a sweeping gesture, like announcing a marquee- "Tony Stark- heart of iron, mouth like a leaky barrel."

Bruce couldn't help smiling again. "Old Spice?" he asked with a snicker. He was rewarded with a relaxed grin and an eyebrow waggle. "Yeah. I like it. You know, classic smell for a classic man." Bruce let that remark slide over him. Interesting, that Tony was able to recognize his deodorant, much less remember. He didn't let anything show on his face, but he felt a little awkward having just noticed how close they were sitting. _Close enough to smell his after shave..._

Bruce stood up, making a show of finishing his forgotten beer and walked to the kitchen to set the empty bottle on the counter top. He felt Tony's eyes on him the whole time, and heard the other man stand up. "Get me another, would you." Stark asked. Bruce slowly turned to grab one out of the six pack, and when he turned back Tony was right next to him, leaning both elbows on the counter. _Why does he stick his ass out like that? Does he even realize he's doing it?_ Bruce stopped that thought, ripped his eyes away from Tony's backside, and handed him the bottle. The whole time Tony was wearing a subtle smile and took the bottle without standing up. Bruce felt an odd pressure to have another himself, so he did. He finished half of it in a long pull. _Fuck it, _he thought, _maybe I should strut after all._

Tony's smile widens. "Hey tiger, it's not a race." he told him, but mirrored the action with his own drink. Bruce tried hard to focus on releasing his tension. For something so simple, it took concentration. He always carried it, the familiar weight was hard to let go of. He started by rolling his shoulders and entertaining a mischievous whim. After a moment of consideration, he downed the other half of his beer and set the empty bottle beside the first. "You always seemed like the competitive type, Stark. You wouldn't walk away from a challenge, would you?" It would be easy to blame his sudden bravado on the alcohol, but Bruce knew better. He had simply been wound too tight lately, he decided to indulge himself a little and be a bad boy. Once he started this rolling boulder, well, objects in motion...

Standing straight, Tony turned up his bottle defiantly. His lips smacked once he'd emptied it and he put his bottle with the others. "You're on, Banner." Bruce caught his breath when Tony said his name. Oh God, what was he doing. Tony raised an eyebrow and leaned toward Bruce as he reached past him for the six pack. It was almost empty, but he knew there was more where that came from.


	3. Chapter 3

The evening quickly degraded into seeing how high they could each stack their pyramid of empty bottles, putting Bruce Willis on mute and doing their own voice-over of made up dialogue, and tripping over each other when they stumbled around, restless and excited.

Tony was plucking lint off the shoulder of Bruce's shirt when he remarked on the humble wardrobe of the physicist. "Do you buy clothes that fit? Do you even _buy_ your clothes? Sometimes you look like you trip and fall into them. Not that it's not a good look for you, I'm just saying...I don't know what I'm saying. You could probably clean up nice, is all. I've never ever seen you in a suit." Since he'd already been indulging a reckless streak tonight, Bruce came back at him with a quip. "I bet I could wear a suit better than even Tony Stark could." As before, this challenge was answered immediately. Before he knew it Tony was dragging him to the walk-in closet in his bedroom, and while Bruce stood waiting at the foot of the bed, he had the quiet feeling that now he may finally get himself into real trouble.

_What am I afraid of?_ one half of himself wondered, while the other half replied, _Nothing. Don't be silly. It's perfectly normal for male colleagues to try on each others clothes while they're drunk. What are you doing you IDIOT._ Tony came out of the closet holding two garment bags, and handed one to Bruce. "Here, you can change in the closet. I'll change out here. Then we have to have a walk-off" he said, doing a girly bump with his hips on the last words. Bruce did his shy smile again, but the adventurous spirit was starting to trickle away, being replaced by a thick regret at the nights activities. He walked to the closet and closed the door. Oh God. Oh God, what was he doing. He was making a fool of himself. What did Tony think of this? How hard would he be laughing when Bruce walked out wearing his clothes? He wanted to pound his own head in. Like a vicious traitor his brain reminded him that Tony was on the other side of that door. Drunk. Getting out of his clothes. Bruce blanched. Not wanting to consider what that meant to him, he instead followed through with the actions behind his big mouth.

Considering Tony was taller (and therefore the charcoal suit was a bit too long), it didn't look half bad. Bruce tried to puff himself up a bit, hoping to fill the extra fabric with whatever bravado he had left. Looking at himself in the mirror inside the door, he thought something looked off. Could it be his glasses? He hesitated, then took them off and placed them on the shelf above. _It's as good as it's going to get._ he thought, and knocked on the door before opening it and stepping out.

Tony's back was to him, fiddling with something in his hands. He was standing where Bruce had stood, at the foot of his bed. Stark was wearing a light gray suit, oddly contrasted by bare feet. Bruce tried to ignore the discarded clothes on the bed, knowing that if he touched them they would still be warm. When he cleared his throat, Tony cocked his head to look over his shoulder.

Once he saw Bruce, a sly grin broke out on his face. He turned all the way around and smiled stupidly, apparently speechless. Bruce did his best Stark impression and strolled out of the closet. But he wore his confidence like he wore Tony's clothes- it didn't fit him. Tony regarded him with a thoughtful expression. "Turn it around, cowboy, I need the whole picture." He twirled his finger overhead in emphasis. Shaking his head, Bruce put his hands in his pockets and walked slowly away. With a flush in his cheeks, he took the jacket off and threw it over his shoulder, giving Tony a come-hither stare that was deliberately exaggerated. Tony laughed, and clapped his hands like a delighted little boy. Bruce was so self-conscious it was almost painful, but he had come this far. "Now you, Stark. Do your little turn on the catwalk." He grinned sheepishly to hear himself say it, but he decided that he may as well have some fun.

Oh, and Tony delivered in true runway fashion. He accentuated every step across the bedroom floor with a hip pop, and when he reached Bruce he did a 360 turn, getting uncomfortably close. Stark whipped around and sauntered back to the bed, pulling a dramatic pose, one hand on his hip, and giving Bruce a _true_ come-hither stare. Bruce laughed and looked away, his heart taking off like a runaway stage-coach. "Okay, I admit defeat. You've got style, Tony." He gestured to himself, shaking his head, "And I just look ridiculous."

Tony walked back over just as quickly, chuckling. "I was born to it, I'm afraid. You never stood a chance. But it really does look good on you, I bet you'd be quite snazzy in something that fit." he said, and absently straightened the collar of his own shirt on the other man. Bruce tried not to squirm when Tony started tucking away loose locks of his hair, one hand still lightly touching his chest.

Frozen like a deer in Stark's headlights, Bruce focused on taking slow, measured breaths and trying not to stare at the patch of skin revealed by one unbuttoned button at the collar of Tony's shirt. Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, Tony dropped his hands, but there was a pregnant pause before he moved away. _Was he smelling my hair?_ A chill ran over him. He pulled the jacket off his shoulder and held it out to Tony, who took it like he didn't know what it was, and tossed it to the bed without hesitation.

Bruce refused to lift his eyes to Tony's face, he was terrified of what he might see. He stared at that open button, noticing that Stark was breathing almost as quickly as he was. Banner wanted to run, and for the first time all night he thought of the Other Guy. Panic hit him like a wave, he felt like he might faint. Blackness hovered at the corners of his vision, and it took everything he had not to reach out to Tony to steady himself. This was agonizing. He tried to think of when he should turn to leave, when would it become so unbearable he was left with no choice? He prayed desperately that Stark would break first, he couldn't bear to crumble yet again. It only made the Hulk stronger, angrier. Shame was as much fuel for him as the rage, and there was enough already.

Tony finally broke the silence, but his tone was just as imposing. All he said, was "Bruce."

He swallowed, not moving, watching the other man breathe in...and out. He repeated himself, voice low.

"Bruce. Look at me."

_Just run. Just laugh like it's another silly game, and get the fuck out of here. Go. Go now, God damn it!_

But he hesitantly raised his eyes. Tony was watching him, breathing heavily through his mouth. Bruce took a deep breath and let it out unsteadily. He couldn't handle the weight of that gaze, the unabashed honest behind it. That damn button. He tried pathetically to lighten the mood, but his voice betrayed his confidence. "Why, Mister Stark, I don't think I've ever seen you so quiet-" and before he could get the last word out, Tony closed the small distance and kissed him. It was slow, and soft. Bruce opened his mouth easily to the other man, and it was warmth and softness and their heavy breathing and Tony's beard scratching lightly against his face.

Bruce broke away first, he dragged his lips along Tony's jaw, down his neck, breathing hard into his chest. Stark let out a choked moan, rolling his head around his shoulders. Bruce reached a hand up to the engineer's chest with some trepidation...and gingerly touched that exposed skin with his fingertips. Tony was watching him again, seeming to let him set the pace. Banner could feel his breath in his ear, and he shivered. _It can't be real. What am I doing? What is wrong with me?_

But his other hand joined the first, fondling the next button (which he knew concealed the device). He felt Tony lightly grip his waist, one or two fingers hooking into his pants. He swallowed again, his heart pounding so hard he was sure it must be deafening. Bruce freed the button, and gently spread open Tony's shirt.

In the moment it took to see the scarred skin around the arc reactor, to see the blue light reach out and touch his own body, Bruce suddenly couldn't stop. His hands were shaking as he unfastened the rest of the buttons, and fully opened Tony's shirt, and shivered again when he saw goosebumps across the other man's skin. The panicked mantra came back to him when he laid his hands flat on Tony's chest. _Oh God, oh my God, oh my God..._

He watched Stark take a deep breath, nose buried in his curly, black hair. And when he nibbled softly around Bruce's ear, it was almost too much. He felt sick and excited and terrified and aroused. _Too much, it's too much. This is wrong. Dear God, why am I doing this?_

Tony shrugged out of the soft gray jacket, and tossed it to the pile of his clothes. Bruce idly wondered if he would care tomorrow when he found it wrinkled, or if he let Pepper worry about that sort of thing.

Then Tony's hands were at Bruce's neck, gentle, barely touching him. He kissed him again, but this time was more urgent, almost desperate. Tony was making small sounds that spoke of great need. Without breaking the kiss, (_His tongue is so soft Jesus he tastes good, tastes like a man_) Tony's hands set to work loosing the buttons of Bruce's shirt.

_I wonder if he's ever taken his clothes off someone else before?_

But that thought was lost when a rough thumb grazed over his left nipple. Banner finally groaned, it was lurid and low and he felt ashamed, but too impatient and excited to care. It seemed to spur the Iron Man, who threw himself into the same treatment of kisses he had been given. Stark pushed the shift back off Bruce's shoulders, but let it pin his elbows to his sides. He seemed to be savoring the sight of it, like a starving animal eyeing it's next meal. Bruce did squirm this time, theirs stomachs brushing together, Tony holding his arms behind his back.

The grin he got this time bordered on obscene (if a grin could be). "Oh, doctor..." he muttered, finally pulling Bruce's shirt free of his arms and letting it fall to the floor. His hands found the scientist's waist again, who was gently led backwards until he bumped against the wall. Tony leaned into him now, kissing him again, but without restraint. The sound of Tony Stark moaning against him was going to drive him wild.

As Bruce reached up to rid Tony of his shirt, a blaring noise cut through the scene. Bruce's heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Tony groaned and rested his forehead on the wall behind him. It was his cellphone, screaming some classic rock song. Banner leaned back, almost panting. Stark stroked a hand up Bruce's stomach to his chest, while the phone kept ringing. "Don't move, doc." he warned, and turned to destroy the distraction.

Cold air replaced the warmth of the engineer, and it left him wanting. Bruce walked over to the bed where Tony was digging in the pockets of his previously discarded pants. When he found the offending contraption, he removed the battery and let it fall to the floor. Before he turned around, Bruce placed his hands over Tony's shoulders and slowly pulled his shirt off.

His skin was so soft and so warm. The scientist trailed his hands up and down Tony's back, before snaking them around the other man and pressing his cheek to Tony's shoulder.

It was a quiet moment, and neither man moved (except when Tony placed his hands over Bruce's). Now, Banner could feel Stark's heavy heartbeat, could feel the solid edges of the reactor, could feel Tony's chest rise and fall. He realized as he was standing there, how desperately he had wanted this. So he closed his eyes and let it stretch on.

But Tony had other thoughts. He drew Bruce's hands up and kissed his fingertips one at a time. He turned his hands over to gently suck on his knuckles in succession. The crazed state he was in got the better of him, and Bruce pressed himself against Tony's back, grinding his hips and kissing Tony's shoulders.

That got his attention. Tony turned in Bruce's arms, grasping his face yet again for a burning kiss. But Bruce wasn't expecting Tony to fall back onto the bed and drag Bruce down along with him. He clutched at the physicist- mouth everywhere, hands everywhere. Bruce worried that he was a time-bomb...the right combination of touch and tongue would cause him to explode. _Oh God Tony, do you have any idea..._

And then he felt Tony's hands at the fly of his slacks, marching in like he owned the castle of Bruce's body. The panic came rushing back, his stomach did a flip and he braced himself with his arms on either side of Tony's head. Tony was looking down Bruce's torso to his task, but he looked him in the eyes when he reached in and laid his hand against Bruce's attentive manhood.

A devious moan came whispering through his lips (_Did I make that sound? That couldn't have been me..._). His whole body trembled, he was reduced to a quivering mess at the soft stroking. The fear gripped him tight enough to choke, and he sucked in a lung full of air when he finally dared to take a breath. Tony just kept right on, never releasing his stare. "Always angry...always frightened, Bruce?" It was barely more than a whisper, but he felt the soft rumble of Tony's voice through his chest. Still panting, he just nodded slowly. He was terrified. Tony lifted his face up to plant a small kiss on his mouth. "Don't be scared, don't be afraid of me..."


End file.
